The world spins as waters rise and bodies gather, it never ceases to spin, but for the pale goddess at the top of the shores, she seems to shrink away from crashing waves and endless ocean for but a moment. Green eyes avoid the great expanse, long, fluttering threads upon her head shiver and quake, but her feet move forward. A trail along the cliff leads downward, zig-zagging back and forth, a saw-tooth track until those without wings are upon the sands.
Although she has wings, Juniper uses the land like a crutch near the sea, clinging to rock’s edge until it scratches her dove-colored sides, until she is sure that she has reached the beaches below. Only then does the breath, pent up for far too long, the entire duration of her downward trek, come out in a great whoosh as she nearly gulps for more of the precious gas. Once the muscle within her breast stops racing, once blood cools and settles into niches and organs again, once the imminent threat of death at the hands of the great unknown passes, only then does the land-bound goddess seem to move. Vespera’s priestess is a sight in the sky, and equally fair on sand as she floats above it. Hoof prints mar pebbled surfaces, grains sullied and pushed too far down, leaving traces of those that come and go. They lead her to the single pair that enters into a cave so narrow her great, lovely grey and white wings must be tucked in tightly against sparrow-boned ribs.
Soon, the passage ends. Soon, there is a light from somewhere that illuminates the pathway. Further back it goes, into the recesses, past cells, until only one is before her.
Footsteps behind alert the priestess his presence first, and then a horned man is near enough her shoulder in these confined spaces that she can feel his body’s heat. Green eyes tilt up toward him briefly, dismissing the wingless man to read the message left for them all.
One great eye gazes out from the ocean. Laid to waste by that which eats but has no mouth, Always hungry, fed by those black of heart. Roman greensward west by south.
Brows rise up and she smiles, thinking of possibilities.
"Have you any idea?“ She asks innocently, dulcet tones a mixture of sweetness and curiosities, overlain with tones suggesting of something more. So few things rise from the ocean - but islands do. Oh yes, islands do. "We go to the end of these lands, to the bottom of the world. You’re recruited because I’ll need help and you’ll provide it if you’ve any interest of finding Prudence.”
@Toulouse @redandblack | "speaks" | notes: Well she just adopted him for this, onward and upward! we goin to the island at the end of dusk
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
The way down the cliffside had not been easy - however, Toulouse had landed on these shores once, when the boat he had bartered a ride upon had dumped him unceremoniously on Terrastella’s rocky shores. He had found a similar path then, one that twisted its way up the side of the rock and deposited him safely on the grass above.
Perhaps that was why he had braved the cliffside now, with its treacherous path and the sea wind clawing at his hair - because of experience. He would have laughed then, if he wasn’t concentrating on where to put his feet.
Toulouse picks his way carefully along the past, and his relief is nearly palpable when the cliffside opens up and reveals a cave cut into the side. Any sense of caution is thrown to the wind then as he lets the shadows swallow him alive, and he treads where only dark and vile creatures dwell. Somehow it feels right, although he doesn’t admit so even to himself.
His footsteps ring out against the stone floor, polished smooth by the waves and the wind and whatever chisels the carvers had used. They echo across through the cave, bouncing off the walls - and as he pushes aside the cell door, he sees for the first time that he is not alone. He had half expected to find a prisoner here - or perhaps the remains of one - but one looks tells him that she is no outlaw, and she did not write the note that has been left for them.
He draws alongside her silently, and tilts his eyes up to read.
One great eye gazes out from the ocean.
Laid to waste by that which eats but has no mouth,
Always hungry, fed by those black of heart.
Roman greensward west by south.
He lifts one brow, mirroring her expression.
“Not even a bit.” His voice is smooth, almost lazy; as if it had been a small amount of effort that brought him here. He looks at her from the corner of one eye, gaze lingering over the smile that turns her lips upwards.
That which eats, but has no mouth…
A thousand possibilities race through his mind, but only one seems to fit.
“The ocean carved these caves, at least in the beginning, before Terarstella’s builders further remodeled them,” he says slowly, thoughtfully. “The ocean. It eats away at the rock until only a pillar remains, and that too, eventually falls prey to it.” Perhaps that was Novus’ fate, to one day be reduced to sand to line the bottom of an ever-growing ocean. He shakes his head.
“We?” He looks at her properly now, with interest. She would do nicely. Toulouse had not intended to accept help from this venture - but she was offering. And the innocence he found in her voice was strangely alluring. It reminds him distantly of the boy from Dawn, the pegasus that was only too eager to say whatever it was Toulouse wanted to hear…
He smiles back, and the wolfish glint in his eyes is fleeting. “Is there an island south of Terrastella, do you know?”
@Juniper these will get better I promise
I love jun
He is a cat, something predatory in the purr of his voice, something calculating in the sharpness of those seemingly innocent eyes. She is a dove, and a bird is not afraid of falling when they fly. Once more she is fearless, once more she is free in the swamps without the ocean threatening to pull her under. Then, the golden man has enough good sense to speak again, a salty breeze tugs his hair as he asks about islands - islands the pale goddess has seen only in the distance when she flies while the sun drifts between wakefulness and rest.
The wind tugs her stormy purple cloak (now wrapped about her throat as a scarf) into the green of Toulouse' own linens strung upon his body. Together they melt and she wonders if a moon-skinned girl such as herself could ever truly marvel at the splendor of the sun like Toulouse. Yet they do, and like the flipping of her coin, her lips tip down, mischief glinting in green eyes. "You'll have to come with me, I suppose, to find that out, sweet earthling." Their matching faces mottled with white come close when her head turns toward him fully. "Yes, we. I told you that you're recruited, now don't slow me down just because you cannot fly - I'd hate for something unpleasant from up above to mess up that pretty hair of yours."
She pauses, eyes narrowing with her own purr to follow, "That truly would be a shame, wouldn't it?" Before she can think of anything worse, before he can dare imagine just what she sees, Juniper giggles like a girl and recites the lines before them under her breath just once. "Do you remember what it says clearly? We should head out."
@Toulouse @redandblack | "speaks" | notes: i do not know if this is flirting because she threatened to do the doodoo from the sky oops. I adore Toulouse as well though !!! ;u;
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
He laughs, and it’s all teeth and charm. Their scarves are curling together, green and grey interchanging, and he presses himself closer to her.
”Well,” he says, his voice low as he turns to look at her. ”I suppose I can’t argue with that, can I?”
He twists his head to look back at the inscription, his eyes weaving down each curved line of red. He pretends to focus, pretends to recite the words to himself the same way she has - but he already knows the words by heart, as if their bloody letters had been carved into his own heart. Toulouse never did forget anything, let alone something as important - as mysterious and tantalizing in its enigma - as this.
His teeth are white and bright in the darkness when he smiles. ”I do. Let’s be off then.”
The outside air is cool and refreshing, the sea sending waves of mist and salt over them both. He stops at the edge of the cliff, and takes a moment to braid his hair back from his face, although it’s hard when the wind keeps trying to tear it out of his grasp. He smoothes it down with more rose oil, and ties it off in a bun.
In the distance is the island, bobbing like a sailboat among the waves.
”Quite the trip from here to there,” he comments dryly. ”It’s been a while since I last swam in the ocean.” His tone alone conveys his displeasure at the idea of having to swim in it now. The last time Toulouse had been in the ocean, he had been washing up like a drowned rat on these very shores.
He was not too keen on repeating the process, not even for Prudence.
@Juniper
figured this one could be the actual getting-to-the-island one??
since the other thread is them already on the island now
He talks and complains, a man of golden skin and silver tongue, but Gods his voice is sugar and a distraction. Even candlelight on All Hollow's Eve is not as soft nor dark as Toulouse. Briefly, the half-goddess half-girl was amused, lips tipping up coyly, eyes dancing with laughter half hidden. That time came and went, she rolled her eyes, repressing a shudder at the thought of swimming through open waters.
“You've a brain in there, you may yet be smarter than you are pretty; use it, won't you?" She purrs like a fox, eyes already going to the skyline, ignoring the sea that makes her stomach churn, that makes her want to run and fly as fast and far away as she can. “And by Vespera's Grace, tell me a story while we go. We'll go by plank sewn into skin, we'll go and I'll take you there. But talk, do talk of anything you please."
Already her stomach drops, but somewhere inside there is a caged bird dying to break free. It sings - how it sings in great swells of song and joy! There is no stopping the sound from resonating in her bones, from bringing her quickly falling stomach back to its proper place. This is an adventure, and the sea air by sky could taste so sweet, so lovely and good.
Bi-colored lips tilt up with the turning of her head, leaning and looking to the man that towers over her as though he would be her next meal, or her next sacrifice for her Goddess' favor. "This should be interesting, no? I wonder what the winds will bring us; will they favor you, earthling? Does anything favor you? Vespera is a loving goddess, should you turn into her fold, I am sure she would welcome you and your midnight voice." The offer is soft, subtle, but it is there. This man who has not mentioned her Goddess, who does not smell of her Temples, who does not look to be the faithful type (he's far too pretty for that, far too lovely to wear Faith like a pendant about his neck), she welcomes him to the Temple with her.
Not now, but perhaps when Prudence is found, when the Halcyon rise and rise again. One day, perhaps.
@Tuolouse | "speaks" | notes: i am the worst thread partner, excuse this trash and me while i take it all out
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
He can feel her amusement - it’s bleeding from her every pore, coloring the air around them until it chafes against his skin and sets his jaw tightly in a smile he refuses to let drop. Even through the insult, and the laughter, and the soft purr of her voice, he smiles. And all the while he thinks that she does not know the rage that coils like a snake inside of his chest, or how close it is to striking.
If he was more like his brother today, he might have already snapped.
But he is not a wolf today, hungry and pacing at the door of a lamb; he needs her, the same way she needs him. So despite the turmoil growing inside of him he laughs along with her and tries to not let his voice sound too sharp, tries to not let his teeth glint too brightly in the Terrastellan sun.
”And what sort of story would you like to hear?” he asks her, as he settles down and pulls his hair into a tight bun (the sea spray was making it curled and knotted already, hanging heavily against his neck). ”I can tell you what a dozen different worlds are like, and what sort of monsters tread the waters separating them. Or maybe you would prefer a love story, a modern Romeo and Juliet?” Never mind the fact that both of them died in the end; maybe that would be them, sinking each other beneath the waves.
The island is waiting for them though, and he’s happy to let her talk of goddesses and favor and sacrifice if it means bringing him one step closer to Prudence.
Toulouse tears his eyes from the island to look at her, even as she turns to look at him. And for just a moment he is quiet, pondering her words. But then his lips split into a smile, and laughter pours forth like the waves.
”You have no idea,” he smiles wickedly. ”Perhaps Vespera should smite me where I stand - the things I’ve done may be too much for even a goddess to pardon.”
And he’s only half-joking.
@Juniper
wow this has been so long, but i’m happy to continue if you are??
